


Such Great Heights

by FindingFrancis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Big Gay Freak Out, College Student Castiel, Coming Out, Counselor Dean, Gay, Lesbian Character, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Pansexual Character, Pansexual Dean Winchester, Photographer Castiel, Portland Oregon, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-04 05:09:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10984020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingFrancis/pseuds/FindingFrancis
Summary: Dean is recent high school graduate with endless possibilities. Castiel is determined to get the hell out of Kansas and study photography.  No one mentioned that meeting your soulmate could make you question everything you knew about yourself.





	1. Castiel 101

**Author's Note:**

> SUCH GREAT HEIGHTS  
> by The Postal Service  
> I am thinking it's a sign  
> That the freckles in our eyes  
> Are mirror images and when  
> We kiss they're perfectly aligned  
> And I have to speculate  
> That God himself did make  
> Us into corresponding shapes  
> Like puzzle pieces from the clay  
> And true, it may seem like a stretch,  
> But its thoughts like this that catch  
> My troubled head when you're away  
> When I am missing you to death  
> When you are out there on the road  
> For several weeks of shows  
> And when you scan the radio,  
> I hope this song will guide you home  
> They will see us waving from such great heights,  
> "Come down now," they'll say  
> But everything looks perfect from far away,  
> "Come down now," but we'll stay...  
> I tried my best to leave  
> This all on your machine  
> But the persistent beat it sounded thin  
> Upon listening  
> And that frankly will not fly.  
> You will hear the shrillest highs  
> And lowest lows with the windows down  
> When this is guiding you home  
> They will see us waving from such great heights,  
> "Come down now," they'll say  
> But everything looks perfect from far away,  
> "Come down now," but we'll stay...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I know there's a big world out there like the one i saw on the screen  
> In my living room late last night,  
> It was almost too bright to see."
> 
> -The Postal Service  
> "This Place is a Prison"

Castiel Collins wandered along the sidewalks of the University of Central Kansas campus. He strolled in the early October sunlight, feeling the first hints of Fall in the northern breeze. Walking the short distance from the University Center to the Mass Communication building on the medium-sized campus, he gave an audible sigh. Castiel should be happy to be at college. He was the first in his family to attempt anything more than a high school diploma. He was happy about being accepted to a university and he hoped that it would take him further than his parents, Chuck and Becky. They had been born, raised, and had grown a family in Hutchinson, Kansas. They never felt like they needed to leave. 

Castiel climbed to the top of the hidden stairwell in the Mass Comm building, silently opening the door and slipping a brick in between the door and the frame so he wouldn’t get locked out. Stephen, his occasional “friend with benefits” showed him how to access the pebble-covered, flat rooftop. On days like today where he wanted to be alone with his thoughts, he snuck onto the roof to eat his lunch before his 1:00 class. Castiel knew he wasn’t like his parents; He knew that he didn’t feel like he was where he was supposed to be. Not that he knew where was supposed to be, but he knew in his gut it wasn’t here. 

He knew since taking his first photography class in high school that he wanted to be a photographer. Nothing else appealed him nor made sense to pursue. He hadn’t know where he wanted to study photography or what type of photography he wanted to pursue, he just knew that’s what he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

Despite getting great grades in school, getting a decent score on his ACTs, and having a long list of extracurricular activities, he was a little too mediocre and a little too middle class to get more than one scholarship. His parents fell into the realm of making too much money through the local bookstore/coffee shop that they owned to qualify for scholarships and aid, and not enough money for them to pay for Castiel’s college. So, he took the scholarship that was offered from the University of Central Kansas and started his first semester that Fall as a photography major. He could care less about taking basic courses needed for his degree and decided to put them off for a few semesters. He wanted to dive head first into his art courses and see how they compared to the slim offerings his small-resourced high school provided. 

Castiel’s studio art classes like Color Theory and Figure Drawing were challenging and cathartic.Whether he was holding charcoal or a camera in his hand, all of his worries and thoughts seemed to dissipate when doing anything art-related. He knew that being a well-rounded artist meant learning all aspect of art and theory. Working with the concept of chiaroscuro in 2-D Concepts class forced Castiel to take time to study the way high-contrast lighting could play with on a subject which in turn helped him with directional lighting when he shot photos in the studio. When he was actually allowed to shoot something for himself and not want Professor Old Balls wanted him to.

He had two photography courses that semester: Analog Darkroom and Photography for Journalism Majors. Castiel loved his Analog Darkroom class because he was old school and while he loved taking photos with his digital camera, there was nothing like knowing how to meter a film camera just by glancing at the sun and shadows and taking a roll of film not knowing immediately what they looked like. Castiel loved threading the roll of film into the developing tank by feel only in complete darkness. He loved squinting at the negatives as they were drying, hoping they weren’t blurry, but not fully knowing until he did a test print on photo paper in the darkroom. He could stay in the darkroom for hours, tweaking an image until it just felt right. It didn’t matter to Castiel if a photo wasn’t up to art critique standards, he still took pride in the work and heart that went into every photo.

It was his Photography for Journalism class that added to his feeling that he didn’t belong at the school. His professor was so old that the plaque on the wall outside of the darkroom stated that the darkroom facility was literally named after him. He was a gruff, squatty old man who wore entirely too much polyester clothing and was only nice to the student who wore the Etta James shirt because that was the only strand of commonality he could find with anyone born after the Mesozoic Era. Professor Knight showed them such things as how to properly light a metal coin or clear vase on a light or dark background. Castiel was sure there was a time and a place that those techniques could be beneficial, but it didn’t make his heart flutter like he knew some aspects of photography could. True, Castiel didn’t know what kind of photographer he wanted to be, but he knew he didn’t want to be THAT kind of photographer. One destined to snap photos of local football games and be called out in the middle of the night to photograph a car wreck, only for the flat grey, 1.5” photo to be placed on the 8th page of the newspaper where no one would ever see it. He knew he needed a change of pace and quickly before he had to endure another semester of Professor Knight berating him every time he whispered to a classmate or possibly teach him “how to deal with lady folk in the newsroom”.


	2. Dean 101

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This place is a prison  
> And these people aren't your friends  
> Inhaling thrills through $20 bills  
> And the tumblers are drained and then flooded again
> 
> -The Postal Service  
> "This Place is a Prison"

Dean Winchester was a recent graduate of Lawrence High. Barely. He could care less about sitting in a classroom all day or about doing homework. He usually had a test average of 90 and a homework grade around a solid 13. His opinion was that he didn’t need to do the homework if already could pass the test. It wasn’t that he was dumb, he just knew that college wasn’t going to be for him. He didn’t believe in paying to regurgitate information with money he didn’t have. He knew he was bound for adventure and to make something for himself by himself, even if it didn’t amount to much in the luxury department. His pride and stubbornness were two things he knew he could never lose and, unfortunately, he was used to losing.

Dean’s dad was a mean drunk who spent the first 12 of Dean’s life and the first 8 of his little brother Sam’s life berating them and their mom. This continued until the night their dad decided he was invincible and that it was a good idea to drive drunk on a wet road. The only thing that was invincible was the large oak tree that his dad’s truck was wrapped around when they found him the next morning. Due to their dad being so controlling, his mom never was allowed to hold a job. Once they lost him, they lost their house they could no longer afford. When Dean was 13 they moved from Wichita to Lawrence where their dad’s old Marine buddy, Bobby lived. Bobby graciously offered to let the remaining Winchesters live with him until they could find a small rent house of their own. 

Dean’s mom, Mary worked two jobs to make ends meet while Dean worked at Bobby’s auto shop to contribute what he could. It was rough for a while, but now that one of Mary’s jobs gave her a promotion, she was able to drop the second job and live comfortably. Dean no longer needed to contribute to keeping them fed and clothed and that allowed him to actually start tasting freedom. Without out the weighted blanket of responsibility, Dean finally got to ask himself what he wanted to do with his life. 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of jack shit. He didn’t know what he wanted to do, he just knew he wanted to get the hell out of Lawrence and have a life that allowed him to travel and experience new things.

The end of Summer was supposed to be the deadline for deciding what he wanted to do and where he wanted to go. Now that it was the first of October, Dean started to feel his anxiety ramping up. After years of living with the uncertainty of whether they’d have food or shelter, Dean didn’t like not having a plan. He wanted something tangible; something he could point in the direction of and head towards with conviction.

Adhered to the door to the garage bay of Singer’s Auto and Salvage was a sign that said: “To avoid injury, don’t tell me how to do my job.” Dean rolled his eyes at Bobby’s newest “decoration” that was in no doubt due to yesterday’s crappy customer. No, Dean didn’t appreciate the customers who came and were sure they had the correct diagnosis on their car after a quick Google search, but it made Bobby irate. He didn’t mind telling someone to “get the fuck out” of his shop after wishing them luck on fixing their car themselves. Bobby may look like he stumbled out of a trailer home in the backwoods of Lawrence, but he was extremely intelligent and didn’t like anyone insinuating that he wasn’t. Dean, on the other hand, liked being unassuming. He liked proving peoples’ first assumptions wrong. Stereotyping pissed him the hell off. 

A few hours later, Dean is attempting to attach a new tensioner so he can replace a serpentine belt. He is good at his job and is eternally grateful to Bobby for teaching him such an important life skill. He could see himself working on cars until he was Bobby’s age; It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination. But, after listening to yesterday’s furious customer and hitting his knuckles on the engine block for the fifth time that day, he knew he would never go back to automotive repair once he left Lawrence unless he absolutely had to. Dean craved something with passion and purpose.


	3. Making Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made charts and graphs that should finally make it clear.  
> I've prepared a lecture on why i have to leave
> 
> -The Postal Service  
> "Nothing Better"

Castiel spent all of Fall Break researching various art schools across the country. He told no one of his need to leave. He didn’t want to worry his family about moving out of state until he had some concrete information. He knew his parents were never going to be able to afford the college of his choice, so he just accepted the fact that he would take out whatever loans necessary and pay them off until he was 98 years old. 

He scrolled through the Parsons School of Design website, dismissing it immediately because the thought of moving from the small suburb of Hutchinson to the insane metropolis of New York City immediately made his Super Introvert alarms go off. That was a big nope. Same went for the Art Institute of San Francisco. Yes, his idol Annie Leibowitz went there, but there was no way he’d be able to afford housing or food. 

Days of research culminated in scrolling across the website of the Portland School of Art. He loved the Pacific Northwest already and had been to Portland a few times when he was younger, visiting his grandparents who had lived in Aloha, Oregon.

As he scrolled through the site he noticed the small class sizes, the wide range of majors, the state-of-the-art facilities, and the lack of useless basic courses. The more he read, the fewer reasons he had to say no to the school. Castiel printed off the page of requirements for admissions and got to work; He didn’t give another minute of his time to researching another school. 

The photography courses at PCA were nowhere near the boring, journalism-centered ones he was used to at UCK. Upon graduation, he could establish himself as a fine artist or pursue a career in commercial photography. The courses - along with the eclectic and well-rounded staff - guaranteed he would have plenty of knowledge gathered by graduation to do what he wanted to do. The idea of the Portland School of Art settled in his chest and just felt right.

* * *

“Westboro Baptist Church: You say it, we hate it. How may I direct your call?”

“Niiiiice. What are you doing?” Dean asks the giggling voice on the phone.

“Avoiding starting on some lame-ass assignment by falling further into the pits of Tumblr.”

“Charlie, now that you’re in college half-a-fucking country away from me, I can’t be there to hide your router until you get your work done. You have to start policing yourself- it’s called ‘adulting’.”

“Adulting is for the fucking birds, man. The only thing I like about being an adult is sex.”

“Speaking of…How are the ladies of the Pacific Northwest treating you?”

“Duuuude. It’s like a whole new world up here. Literally, the first thing I saw when I got to Portland was two dudes walking down the street, holding hands. That shit wouldn’t fly in Lawrence. 

“Last week, I had a date with this chick named Emily who works at an Indian Restaurant near my apartment. She let me drink as much IPA as I wanted while she closed the restaurant down and then we to watch a movie at this rad little theater.”

“I’m seriously happy for you,” Dean said with earnest.

“How are the ladies of Lawrence treating you?” Charlie counters back.

“Ehhh...they’re not. I haven’t had much time to dazzle anyone with my brilliant personality.”

Dean and Charlie have been best friends since 7th grade. They “dated” that school year for a month before Charlie admitted through lots of tears that she only liked girls “that way”. Dean just told her it was cool and that he should have known since they didn’t even hold hands the entire month. Dean thought Charlie was still the coolest person he’d ever met and wanted to continue being her friend. Five and half years later, Charlie is at college in Portland and it’s the first time they’ve been apart for more than a week since they have known each other.

“This fucking sucks, man. Why do you have to go to school in Hipster-ville?” Dean whined

“Because it’s frigging amazing out here, I’m getting a great education, and I was tired living under the patriarchal thumb of the Bible Belt.”

They’ve had this discussion many times, and while he couldn’t put himself directly in her shoes, he understood her need to leave. It just felt like a part of himself left with her. 

“Why don’t you come up here?” Charlie stated

“Wh...what??” Dean was caught off guard and had never been able to entertain the thought of visiting Charlie or being able to leave Lawrence for that matter. Not until he knew that his mom and Sam were secure and didn’t need his help.

“Yes. Come up here. You know Bobby will let you have time off, and I know that you have enough money for a plane ticket now that your mom got her promotion. I can clear some time in my schedule, no probs.”

“But, Charlie, that means I’ll have to fly. In an airplane!”

“That’s generally what happens when you buy a plane ticket.”

Dean silently weighed the pros and cons of strapping himself to a rocketing death trap and seeing his best friend. Ultimately, the thought of hanging out with Charlie after being away from her so long won out.

“Fuuuuck. Fine. When do you want me to come up?”

The squealing sound that came out of his phone’s speaker was inhuman and caused Dean to flinch away.

“Jesus, woman. Tone it down!”

Charlie snickered because Grumpy Dean was one of her favorite things. “Sorry, dude, I’m just so excited! How about November 1-7? That way I won’t be in crunch mode before finals and it will give you a couple weeks to get tickets and whatnot.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dean was excited, but still nervous about the plane ride. It would be his first time flying, ever. “You’re lucky I love you. Now, go do your damn homework!”

“Okay, dad.” Charlie’s smile could be heard through her mocking tone.

“Bye, C.”

“Bye, D. See you sooooon!”

Dean huffed out a laugh at his enthusiastic best friend as he pressed the “end call” button on his phone and headed over to his laptop to start looking at plane tickets.


	4. Heading to Portland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knuckles clenched to white as the landing gear retract for flight  
> My head's a balloon inflating with the altitude
> 
> -The Postal Service  
> "Recycled Air"

Castiel hated lying to his parents. He truly did, but he couldn’t face the look of disappointment on their faces if he didn’t didn’t get accepted into PCA. So, he told them that he was going to Portland to take a mental break before finals instead of the truth that he was going to the college to meet with an admissions officer who will interview him and go through his portfolio, ultimately deciding if he will be accepted into the school or not. He hoped none of his family members could sense his nervousness and chalked it up to his usual twitchy demeanor. 

“You’re sure you want to travel by yourself?” His mom asked with concern and skepticism etched into her furrowed brows. “You’re not usually one to be spontaneous or even leave the house without a good reason.”

“Yes, I’m sure. I have the time and money and my photography work is going to become stagnant if I don’t branch out and leave Hutchison.”

Castiel’s little brother, Gabriel sauntered into his bedroom and immediately flopped face first onto his bed. “I’m glad you’re leaving; It’ll give me uninterrupted time to go through all your crap. Make sure you bring me back some hippie, locally-grown, eco-sourced, vegan chocolate.” He winked at Castiel and made a kissing noise with his pursed lips.

“I’m just glad I don’t have to see your face for five days.” Castiel bitch-faced back to his brother.

Gabriel was four years younger than Castiel and at 15-years-old he was not only the biggest pain in the ass, but also one of the few people who could match Castiel’s intellect and witty banter. Living with Gabriel was like simultaneously living with your best friend and Robin Williams. One minute Castiel would be enjoying their lengthy discussions of Star Wars theories and the next he would be daydreaming about dumping a bottle of Adderall down Gabriel’s throat because he couldn’t sit still or take anything seriously for more than five minutes. Regardless, - if he actually got into PCA - he would truly miss being around Gabriel.

“Boys,” their mother chided, “Get in the car so we’re not late to the airport. Castiel, do you have everything?”

“I belive so. Thank you for driving me.”

“Of course, sweetie. Your dad can handle the store for a while without me. I hope.”

Cas chuckled and picked up his rolling suitcase and backpack. He had triple-checked that his portfolio, camera, and necessary papers were in the backpack the night before and he planned on making sure the bag didn’t get stepped on, taken, or lost until he could get to his admissions interview two days from now. His anxiety tended to help his brain think of multiple scenarios of things that could go wrong and prevent him from getting accepted into PCA. Even though he knew the majority of those thoughts were unfounded, he wasn’t going to take risks. 

* * *

Dean picked up his father’s old Marine-issued duffel with “Winchester” stenciled in block letters across the side. He had thrown in whatever clothes he thought he might need for his trip, including any rain gear he had because he hated being wet unless he was purposely in a body of water. He and Charlie decided not to have an itinerary and to just make plans a day at time, so he didn’t know if he needed to bring anything else. Shrugging to himself, he tucked his worn copy of George Orwell’s 1984 into the back pocket of his jeans to read on the plane and went into the kitchen to kiss his mom goodbye.

“Hey, mom, I’m headed out.”

Mary turned towards him with a warm smile and open arms. Over time, Dean has noticed that their family bond seemed to be stronger than most families. Not only did they share the love that generally exists between a mother and child, but they shared a closeness that could only be forged by living through the hell that was John Winchester. The trio seemed tethered to each other by the light that shone through the cracks of the mental scars they had accrued and by the impossibilities they had overcome. No matter where life took him, Dean knew he would have the full support of his mom and brother.

“You sure you don’t want to leave the Impala here?”

“Nah, this way I can park it in the covered and fenced-in lots at the airport. I’ll know she’s safe from thieves and weather and you won’t have to worry about Sammy going for a joyride in the middle of the night.”

Speaking of the gangly devil himself, his little brother, Sam stumbled into the kitchen rubbing his still-sleepy eyes. His shaggy hair defied physics and was mussed into a hundred different directions. 

“First of all,” Sam mumbled through a yawn, “I’m not allowed to drive until I get my license next year. Second of all, why did you book such a god-awfully-early flight? The sun’s not even up!”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot pretty princesses abide by the rules. And this was the cheapest flight I could get.”

Sam picked up whatever was closest to this hand - which happened to be an empty plastic cup - and chunked it as hard as he could at Dean’s head while yelling, “Nolan Ryan!”

Dean was about to throw his duffle down and tackle his brother into the dining room floor until his mom flicked them both in the back of their heads. “Dean, you need to get going so you don’t miss your flight and Sam, you need to eat some breakfast before school.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Both of the boys replied.

Mary squeezed Dean into another hug and kissed him on his cheek. “Please be careful, keep me updated, and give Charlie all my love!”

Dean’s smile at his mother’s adoration for his best friend quickly faded when Sam shouted from the pantry, “Yeah, have fun flying in an airplane.”

Dean groaned as he remembered he’d actually have to face that fear before he’d see Charlie. “You are literally the worst.” he told Sam.

“You love me.”

“Yes, I do.” He pinned Sam with a serious look “Take care of mom and you call me if you need anything, you got it?”

With a nod from Sam and another smile from his mom, Dean threw his bag into the Impala and headed to the airport. 

* * *

Sweaty and queasy five hours later, Dean fled to the exit of the Portland International Airport, looking for a mop of unnaturally red hair. Before he could complete a full sweep of the crowd, he heard a loud, “Dean!” and then felt himself being wrapped up in a bone-crushing hug.

Looking down at the petite frame of his best friend, his face split into the biggest smile it had displayed in quite some time. He picked Charlie up and swung her in a circle - airport-goers be damned - before abruptly setting her down and pointing a finger at her face.

“No, uh uh fuck you. I’m not happy to see you after you made me buckle myself into not one, but two metal death traps to get here.”

“Not my fault you didn’t book a direct flight like I suggested.” Charlie flashed him an ornery grin.

“Yeah, well, I thought a four-hour flight would be more stressful than two shorter flights, but I’m coming to the conclusion that it doesn’t fucking matter and the Wright brothers were sadists.” 

Rolling her eyes at Dean’s familiar hissy fits, Charlie hugged him again and buried her head into his shirt. “I’m a mess without you. I missed you so damn much. I miss being with you, I miss being near you. I miss your laugh. I miss your scent; I miss your musk.”

“Take it easy, Champ. Why don’t you stop talking for a while?” 

Dean and Charlie stare at each other for a moment before throwing their hands back in laughter, scaring a few passerbys. 

“No one can quote Anchorman like we can,” Charlie exclaims and raises her hand for a high five.

“Damn straight.” Dean smacks her hand and they start heading towards the parking garage of the airport.

“What do you want to do first?” Charlie glances at Dean and then her face smoothes with realization, “Duh, you want food first. I know of a great diner by the apartment that makes their own pies.”

Dean feigns a shocked face, “It’s like you know me or something!” and cackles as he dodges Charlie’s in-coming punch. 

* * *

TWO DAYS LATER:

Castiel had his current transcript ready, his application forms, his recommendations, and his current photography portfolio. The school required a face-to-face admissions interview to discuss the reasons for wanting to attend the school as well as go through the 15 photos he felt represented who he was and wanted to be as a photographer and artist. He chose the first photo he ever took in his high school photography class; It was a black and white photo of his parents’ garden shed in the backyard during an ice storm. Everything was in stark black and white with a branch of a tree hanging in the foreground, covered in ice from the winter storm they had that year. It will always be one of his favorite photos, marking the day he discovered what he wanted to do with his life. The rest of the portfolio was a sampling of photos taken in between the photo of the garden shed and up to some of his most current work. He took a risk with his portfolio selections by showing photos that were only shot on film. He wanted the subjects to speak for themselves and show respect for taking your time in a fast-paced world. 

The admissions officer silently flipped through the photos he took of Stephen skateboarding in a concrete ravine, hand thrown back behind him as he hung frozen 3 feet above the ground. She stared at the photo Castiel took of a statue of Jesus crying. The photo appeared in stark contrast, just the head of the statue showing. Castiel had flicked some of the Stop Bath solution onto the print before placing it in the developer. The effect it gave the photo was similar to a film strip being melted which added to the emotion seen on the statue’s face. This was his life’s work up to this point and he felt extremely vulnerable as someone finely combed through it. As the minutes ticked by, Castiel’s throat squeezed tighter with the anticipation of this unfamiliar lady possibly destroying his dreams with a few words.

She glanced up at Castiel’s blue eyes with a blank expression on her face.

Shit. Here we go. She’s not going to accept me. What am I going to do now?

“Welcome to PCA, Castiel. Our photography department will be lucky to have you.”

Castiel’s eyes flicked up rapidly to her face. “Really?” He asked, not believing what she had said and requiring further confirmation.

“Yes, really.” She said with a smile. “Finish your current semester, make sure your FASFA information is in order, and we will see you in January. Feel free to look around, talk to students, and browse the library. Here is my card if you have any further questions.” 

She handed him her professionally-pressed business card and shook his hand.

“Thank you so so much for this opportunity!” Castiel gushed. 

Stumbling out of her office with his portfolio in hand, he glanced around the central part of the college in a daze. He knew there were so many additional things to do and worry about now that he was accepted, but at that moment he could feel he was meant to be there and that it was the penultimate pin in his map to the future he had imagined for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Images in Castiel's portfolio
> 
>  
> 
>  


End file.
